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A Journal About Raising A Child

On the evening of January 18th, at around 8 PM, my first child, Cordelia Krizsan Vogel, entered the world. She came out of Mariann, my wife. She got her mother’s facial shape, her father’s irritability, and her mother’s genitalia.

Your Life Is Over: If you are the sort of blissful shut-in who can’t imagine anything nicer than shutting yourself up in your home […], skip to Reason 2. You are already lost.

You Are Doomed To Disappointment: Forget about raising the child that changes everything. I suggest you aim for, say, raising a child who doesn’t end up married to someone in the sex or lard rendering industries.

You Will Never Feel Safe Again: I know now that I did not truly understand terror until I got myself in a position where I loved someone who thought staples were food.

It’a a funny, frank journal with a bit of tenderness underneath its raw surface.